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Monkey Paw
Oct. 18th, 2013 09:33 pmOn occasion, I've been known to make a decision based on rejecting the choice I'd regret more. While this is as flawed a method as any other, it tends to steer me wrong less often than other methods I've tried, such as exhaustively researching, being super risk-averse, or waiting until I have no choice left.
Looking back, the more impulsive my decision, the wiser it tends to be in the long run. Most of these were commitments to living beings.
"I just need to get laid already, and I know he's funny and hung." - Eventually married him.
"I don't want to stop petting her, she's so wonderful." - Ancient Cat turns twenty in November.
"Sure, let's do this thing." - Kiddo is seven and we haven't screwed her up yet *fingers crossed*.
Though past performance is no indication of future return, I can't help but pet these platitudes like the fluffy cat of whackaloon villain (as opposed to Ancient Cat, who has become a whackaloon villain herself).
Things most often turn out alright. Scary things are often just huge things that change your world in an awesome way. Hard work is how we get stronger, at least physiologically. An element of chaos is integral to healthy homeostasis.
It's the closest I get to having faith
~*~
I've been talking with FeldMom lately about my ill-fated confirmation back in the day. When my brother later came of that age he refused to do it, and mom backed his play much to the consternation of the nun who taught catechism (we were tag-and-release Catholic, mom went back to the church when I was eight and my brother a newborn). Since then, and especially with each passing decade of my agnosticism, she's felt guilty that I was 'pressured into it'.
I think I've finally gotten it through to her that I wasn't being passive or coerced--at the time I really thought that if I made a big public commitment toward a higher being that faith would follow.
"You really thought the heavens would open up and God would talk to you out loud or something?" Mom said with unease at my naivete.
"No, that's not it," I replied, and this is where the penny finally dropped for her that my agnosticism might just be like being born without the ability to sense the ineffable something she'd always felt herself, "I just thought I could make the decision *yes* and the question would be settled."
~*~
The thing is, it did make me comfortable in my lack of faith. I had pulled out all the stops and made myself open to the universe, and the universe just vibrated with non-answer the way it always had.
So I think this is simply how my brain resonates as its particular corner of the universe. I want to be settled and confirmed and sure and still like stone, but I can't be. There are always possibilities and tensions and missing pieces, and my ultimate work here is to figure that shit out. Not to answer the questions, but to physically work out how to carry on regardless through the chaotic soup, sans guidance and sometimes with only a mug full of ersatz hubris clenched in my white-knuckled fist.
Looking back, the more impulsive my decision, the wiser it tends to be in the long run. Most of these were commitments to living beings.
"I just need to get laid already, and I know he's funny and hung." - Eventually married him.
"I don't want to stop petting her, she's so wonderful." - Ancient Cat turns twenty in November.
"Sure, let's do this thing." - Kiddo is seven and we haven't screwed her up yet *fingers crossed*.
Though past performance is no indication of future return, I can't help but pet these platitudes like the fluffy cat of whackaloon villain (as opposed to Ancient Cat, who has become a whackaloon villain herself).
Things most often turn out alright. Scary things are often just huge things that change your world in an awesome way. Hard work is how we get stronger, at least physiologically. An element of chaos is integral to healthy homeostasis.
It's the closest I get to having faith
~*~
I've been talking with FeldMom lately about my ill-fated confirmation back in the day. When my brother later came of that age he refused to do it, and mom backed his play much to the consternation of the nun who taught catechism (we were tag-and-release Catholic, mom went back to the church when I was eight and my brother a newborn). Since then, and especially with each passing decade of my agnosticism, she's felt guilty that I was 'pressured into it'.
I think I've finally gotten it through to her that I wasn't being passive or coerced--at the time I really thought that if I made a big public commitment toward a higher being that faith would follow.
"You really thought the heavens would open up and God would talk to you out loud or something?" Mom said with unease at my naivete.
"No, that's not it," I replied, and this is where the penny finally dropped for her that my agnosticism might just be like being born without the ability to sense the ineffable something she'd always felt herself, "I just thought I could make the decision *yes* and the question would be settled."
~*~
The thing is, it did make me comfortable in my lack of faith. I had pulled out all the stops and made myself open to the universe, and the universe just vibrated with non-answer the way it always had.
So I think this is simply how my brain resonates as its particular corner of the universe. I want to be settled and confirmed and sure and still like stone, but I can't be. There are always possibilities and tensions and missing pieces, and my ultimate work here is to figure that shit out. Not to answer the questions, but to physically work out how to carry on regardless through the chaotic soup, sans guidance and sometimes with only a mug full of ersatz hubris clenched in my white-knuckled fist.
